


A life together: first try and first fail

by knaveofmogadore



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Angst, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 01:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20267788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: “I need to start the journey home tomorrow,” he whispers, his voice tattling on him with its hoarseness.“I thought that you would be,” Atem says.





	A life together: first try and first fail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Houjuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houjuu/gifts).

> This fic is circa last year and sorry not sorry, its the only yugioh fic I'm ever gonna write

The sun burns hot orange over the adobe roofs of Thebes and the desert beyond as he finishes his journey across the sky. A boy, a teenager not even on the cusp of manhood, but close, does not bother to shade his eyes as he stares over the blood colored dunes in the distance. The days last rays lightens his skin to the color of rust, stains his purple eyes crimson, his black hair the color of Nile mud, and his white linen kilt scarlet. A hot, arid breeze caresses over his bare back and drags the hem of his kilt over his ankles. The balcony walls did nothing to to shelter him from what was surely a future dust storm from over the horizon. It pressed the thin linen to his leg, desperately trying to flatten out the pleats and undo the careful pinning of the sky blue belt of his station.

He muses that his mother would be furious at his state of disarray, before a pang like a horse kick hits his chest. The breeze ruffles Heba’s hair like it carries his father's pride and he shakes from the feeling of ghosts. His fingers clench against the wall he leans on for support as his grief finally swells within him. He closes his eyes, they pinch and twitch and cannot stop the tears from flowing. One, two, three, four, five drops on the already ancient stone that stops him from falling to the streets below. One for each year of his absence. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that this responsibility should fall from his shoulders and his uncles could keep fighting over a station and plots of land until they all killed each other. That the wall could give way and he would be maimed, that an illegitimate child should come from nowhere, that-

Heba is all at once hit with burning shame from his face to his toes, hotter and more painful than the sun. He thinks of his friend, and the great weight on his shoulders, and thoughts of running off into the desert fall from his mind. The sound of someone's throat clearing startles him to chill. He hastily wipes his eyes and avoids turning around. No matter how much the gentle tones of his friend tempt him, Heba would rather fall to the streets below than show him the weakness he had allowed himself. 

“I thought I would find you out here.”

Heba sniffles and curses himself. “Hello, Atem.”

Every scrape of Atem's sandaled feet coming closer raises his heart and pulls down his stomach. The barest brush of fingers over his arm as Atem comes to lean on the wall by his side raises shivers in Heba from deep in his chest. His smooth brown skin now matches Heba’s own. His dreads are escaping the careful braids some servant surely worked hard on this morning, and his fingers twitched to brush them back. Atem has shed his ceremonial clothes for a simple tunic, and Heba calms himself by following the fold and pins and pleated over his shoulders and to his chest, down to the belt and drape at his waist and down to- Heba corrects himself, his hands calm and serenely placed on the wall as he stands relaxed, if ruffled, against the wind. 

Atem stays quiet and thoughtful, staring out at the sunset and his soon to be people as concern rolls off of him in waves. He waits for Heba to fill the silence.

“I need to start the journey home tomorrow,” he whispers, his voice tattling on him with its hoarseness. 

“I thought that you would be,” Atem says. 

The warm, gentle push in Atem's deeper voice calms something in Heba’s chest and pushes him to talk. It always has. Heba has never felt ashamed of anything around Atem. His pharaoh to be judges others, as is his job. He judges scriptures and his future court and the possible suitors of his future. A future pharaoh judges early, but Atem has never judged him. 

“You are afraid,” he says. 

It is a statement, not a question. Atem questions everything, but he has never needed to question him. Sometimes Heba feels that they have shared a soul. That maybe they still do. He pushes that down to his stomach filled with rocks and ignores it. Now is the worst time for impossible thoughts. 

“I am.” 

There is no lying to Atem.

“You are going to do great.”

Somehow, Atem's smile hurts him worse than his disappointment would have. Heba only has room in his body for anxieties. 

“I am not afraid of how I will do,” despite his quivering heart, Heba elbows Atem, “Unlike someone, I studied my role.”

Atem tries to look irritated, but no one can be irritated at Heba. He is like the summer rains. Warm, beautiful, awe inspiring. A gift. Atem chuckles, a comforting and warm sound that raises from his stomach like the current of the Nile. It washes over Heba and calms him even as his body weighs more. He is going to miss that sound. 

Atem elbows Heba back playfully. His eyes trail down from his face to his hands, his fingers, still pressed against the stone. He covers his hand with his own and it sets Heba alight and fills him with chill all at once. A ghost of a giddy smile graces his face and chases away a tenseness in his friend's shoulders that he had not noticed before it was gone. Heba is going to miss that too. Atem so rarely looks relaxed in recent days.

“Why be afraid,” Atem asks, “I will be your pharaoh soon, and I am certainly not going to kill you over a goat.”

Heba swallows back more tears. He cannot explain the terror he feels when he thinks of home. There are only so many duels standing between him and his death, and just like in life, his parents can not protect him forever in death. Heba forces a smile, allows the giggle that wants to escape do so. Atem smiles, brighter than Ra himself, and Heba knows that he would do anything to see this face again. Anything.


End file.
